Sympathy for the Devil
by Blake Kinsey
Summary: Mikayla lost everyone, and now Dean and Sam are here to help her fight her demons.
1. Chapter 1

I was just pulling out of the parking lot when my phone started ringing. One hand on the wheel, I started digging through my purse for it. I barely answered it before the third ring ended.

"Mikayla Leighton, hold on." I situated the phone between my shoulder and ear and muted the radio. "Okay, speak," I said, having forgotten to check the caller ID.

"That is no way to answer the phone, Mikayla," a deep voice answered angrily. No surprise- my adoptive father Mark Evans was always angry. "It is rude and-"

"Sorry, Mark. It won't happen again," I apologized quickly. Mark and I fought constantly. He is a snotty rich guy whose life was planned for him, so to make up for the lack of control, he has set his mind on micromanaging mine. I didn't want to argue right now, though, and knowing he wouldn't let it go I changed the subject. "I just left my place! My bags are packed and I'm ready for a three week long vacation with my family. Did you find my surfboard?" I asked, faking a happy, perky voice.

Mark sighed, seeing through my distraction and deciding to ignore it. "You have someone to cover your rounds at the hospital, right? And your shifts _waitressing_?" He is disgusted by that lowly job. "And you aren't taking any summer courses? You can't let yourself fall behind other students. Don't waste my money- I'm paying for medical school because you promised you would pay me back by the time you're thirty."

And that did it.

My adoptive parents were _loaded_ , the Evans family being very old money and Mark being a partner in the family law firm. That's why he was so disappointed in me; the Evans adopted a kid with the best grades, best recommendations and best 'breeding', but I refused to go into his 'family business'. He wanted an heir to the firm, but didn't want to waste time raising his own, so he adopted me. And I opted to be a doctor, go to med school like my mom and dad had. The only reason the Evans' were paying for my education was because I got into Harvard and that's where he, his father before him and so on studied law. I think that Mark still holds out some hope that I will meet someone in law and see how wonderful the career is and switch majors. Which is dedication, considering I had skipped my junior year of high school and took enough courses to have the credits to graduate pre med a year early also. With perfect GPAs, might I add. I am now two years into medical school, and Mark needs to realize that law isn't going to happen.

But accusing me of falling behind? _Wasting his money?_

" _Yes_ , I have someone covering for me at the hospital _and_ the diner," I answered through gritted teeth, clenching the phone in my hand now. Yelling at him will just make this last longer, I reminded myself. Staying composed was probably a pipe dream though; I was barely keeping calm at this point. " _And_ three pre-med professors are sending me papers to grade for them. _Yes_ , I am taking summer courses, but I enrolled for the ones that start a month from now. One month. That is all I've taken off of school or work in six years, and I plan to enjoy it." Okay, calm might have been left in the dust. "I am twenty two years old, and I've gotten through six years of college! I will not fall two years behind in my courses in one month. And even though _you_ have enough money to comfortably put a dozen kids through Harvard and still easily afford your _seven_ vacation homes, I will pay you back my tuition and other fees _with interest_ by the time I'm 30!"

"Don't you dare give me that-" Mark's yelling and angry voice suddenly cut out.

"Mikki?" a higher, more feminine voice asked. Then, muffled, "Leave her be, Mark. She's doing better than _you_ ever could."

"Carol!" My adoptive mother's scolding was a blessing. Five minutes and Mark already had me yelling, but Carol instantly comforted me. Though her using that tone with her controlling husband surprised me, what with her being a stereotypical 50's wife that was nothing but supportive and "in her place". She was so maternal, and she reminded me so much of my mom. "I'm on my way now, I can't wait to see you all!"

"Yes, yes, dear. We are all so excited to see you," she responded happily. I could feel her scolding coming back though. "Mikayla, you can't argue with Mark like that. You know he has blood pressure problems. And so early in the morning!"

Rolling my eyes, I pulled the phone away from my mouth to muffle a sigh. "I'm sorry, Carol. But it's already ten thirty. It's not that early."

"That's because you are used to going to work at three in the morning, sweetheart. Mark works nine to five, and today's Sunday. The day of rest! He wanted to sleep in. Speaking of resting, when will you get here?" She babbled excitedly.

"Tomorrow, around ten. I just left. It's a long drive from Boston to Miami," I smiled to myself, thinking of the 23 hour drive ahead of me. Maybe I could extend the trip a little, take a scenic route. The long road stretching ahead, just me, myself and I.

"Oh I wish you would let us buy you a plane ticket. It would be so much faster, and it wouldn't put so much strain on you."

"Carol, you know I love driving. And it's really not that bad," I promised her for the thousandth time.

"At least promise me that you'll stop at a hotel and get some rest tonight, and when you get here we'll have a huge lunch party set up for you," she pleaded.

I laughed at her concern, knowing I rarely ever took a break on these long drives. "I'll think about it. How are Dylan and Walker?" My adoptive brothers were on summer break, and normally come and stay with me for a few weeks. This year, I was as focused on school as always, but since Dylan was about to go off to Harvard Law (a year early), so I'm staying in Florida with them for a month. Then I get to have weekly lunch with Dylan once he starts school, and Walker is going to spend his Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks with me while Mark and Carol travel. Spending time with them was the only reason I am voluntarily staying with Mark for three weeks.

"The boys are sleeping. They got up an hour ago to eat, and now they're back in bed," you could hear the incredulity in her voice.

"That sounds like them," I giggled. "I'll let you get back to your restful Sunday. See you tomorrow."

"See you then, sweetheart." With that Carol hung up.

I pulled out my phone charger and plugged my phone in, connecting it with my car. Stopping at a light, I unlocked my phone and started my road trip playlist on shuffle. AC/DC's Highway to Hell blared through the speakers, and my voice rose to sing along.

The road went by in a lulling blur, and suddenly I realized that it was completely dark outside. Nearly thirteen hours had already passed since I left Boston. A sign said a motel was fifteen minutes out of my way, and, bleary-eyed and yawning, I decided I would take Carol's advice and get a room for the night. I checked into the cheapest room, not bothering to bring anything but my purse into the room before I crashed onto the bed.

In what seemed like a blink of an eye, I woke up to sunlight streaming into my eyes. I groaned, rolling over to shield my eyes. That's when I saw the alarm clock. Bright green numbers glared at me: 9:54. Shit! I frantically pulled out my phone and dialed Walker.

He answered on the first ring. "Hello?" A sleepy voice greeted.

"Walker?" I said hesitantly, realizing I had woken him up. Crap. Both our days were starting off on a sour note.

"Mikki?" Walker asked, instantly more awake.

"Hey hun, sorry to wake you. Just go back to sleep. I'll call Carol." I started to pull the phone away from my ear.

"Wait! No, I've been awake for hours!" He lied, rather unconvincingly, but I let it slide. My adoptive brothers and I had grown close in the years we've been with the Evans', but Walker and I were especially tight. He was just a few months younger than my youngest brother, Carter, would have been, and, in a probably completely unhealthy way, I imagined Carted would be a lot like Walker; I looked after him as much as I could. "What's up?"

I stood up and started searching for my keys. "I stopped at a motel for some shut-eye and sorta slept in," I said sweetly.

"How far out are you?"

I found my keys, grabbed my purse and was out the door. I started running to the main office, pausing outside the door. Traffic would be killer in Florida today. "Eleven hours? Maybe a little more?" I bit my lip, waiting for his response.

Walker burst out laughing. "Ooh, Mikayla, you're in trouble," he sung, mockingly, in a way only siblings could. "Carol has like a dozen new chefs already preparing lunch for you."

"I know, I know," I moaned. "Hey, hold on a sec. I gotta check out." I put my call on mute as I opened the door and approached the front desk.

As I handed the old man at the desk my room key he said, "Thanks for staying." I nodded in return and rushed back out the door.

Unmuting the call, I said "Walker?"

"I'll cover for you, but you owe me," my brother said in response.

"Big time," I promised, and then heard a beep as he ended the call. I got in my car and started the engine, the speakers roaring to life as I did, blaring Wanted Dead or Alive. Sighing and shaking my head, I turned the volume up even more and tore out of the parking lot.

This time, knowing the lecture waiting for me, the road seemed monotonous. Cities inched by as I drove as fast as was safe. Or was safe for the girl that used to illegally race sports cars with a rebel boyfriend. When the lights of the Evans' beach palace came into view, the sun had set and the moon reflected on the waves of the ocean just behind the house. I pulled into the driveway that was under the stilted house, behind Mark's Ferrari and Carol's SUV. There were at least six more cars parked at the curb; maybe they were the chefs', but normally Mark makes them park in the guest house garage down the road. They're new though, so they probably haven't moved their cars yet. The porch lights were shining down the entry stairs, their light stretching across the path of rocks half buried in sand, meaning Mark was waiting up and pissed.

I waited in the car a few minutes more than necessary, steeling myself for what was waiting inside. I checked my emails just to put off the inevitable, and saw that a professor wants me to finish grading half of his papers "tonight when I can". I thanked the heavens above for the excuse to get out of spending time with Mark. With that in mind, I gathered myself as best as I could, grabbed my bags and swung open the door, head high as I walked to the threshold.

I opened the door, duffel bag over my shoulder and purse in hand. The entryway was just as I remembered it, bright lights shining on pristine white walls with gold trim and marble floors. Rare and eccentric for the inside of a beach house, just the way the Evans' liked it. I slipped my shoes off and set them on the mat by the door, where eight other pairs were neatly lined, all varying in sizes. The house was always spotless, despite the fact that we were on a sandy beach and everyone that stayed here was very into water sports.

"Carol?" my voice echoed through the enormous house.

I was answered by silence. Even Mark wasn't in the front seating room waiting for my arrival.

I followed my nose to the kitchen, hoping the staff hadn't eaten all of the leftovers. I wasn't disappointed; the main refrigerator was overflowing with the day's meals. I grabbed a sandwich from a wrapped platter and mindlessly took a bite, walking back into the hall.

I assumed that my family was on the second or third floor, or maybe down at the shore; the wraparound porch was seemingly empty when I pulled up, and even if they were on the porch they would have heard me drive up anyways.

As I walked around the corner into the dining room, my stomach dropped and I almost lost the sandwich I finished. Red, red everywhere. It coated the walls, dripped from the crystal chandelier, and spilled over the table. It looked like a scene from a horror movie, blood and guts splayed around. Mark sat at his place at the head of the table, throat torn out. Carol sat across from him, face down on the oak table. The boys, my sweet, sweet boys- I looked away from the disfigured bodies sitting just a few yards away before I could see any more. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized I was screaming bloody hell. I backed up to the wall and crumpled against it, squeezing my eyes shut.

I don't know how long I sat there; it felt like hours but was more likely just a few seconds. Then my screams were cut off by a hand over my mouth. I felt another hand grab my arm and pull me up. My eyes shot open and I was met with a broad chest.

A man, so tall he towered over me, pulled me against him. I was struck by how calm his eyes looked in light of the massacre behind him. We stood in silence for a few heartbeats before he spoke.

"If I let go, are you going to scream?" He asked quietly, his deep voice reverberating through my chest. He waited patiently until I shook my head, telling him I would be quite. He moved his hand from my mouth, but still held me close. "Where are they?" The stranger whispered.

"Who?"

"Sammy!" A voice yelled from another room.

"In here!" The man- Sammy- yelled back.

The other guy came running in, shorter than the first, a gun in one hand and a machete in the other. In a flash, just as I opened my mouth, Sammy's hand was back over my mouth, silencing my renewed screams. Just as quick, I flinched back from the large man holding me.

"You killed them," I choked, pulling away. "You killed them all!"

The men shared a look, one I could tell was common between them. The shorter one put his gun in his waistband as he stepped past his friend towards me. He held his empty hand out to me, and I pressed back, realizing they had me in a corner.

He sighed, frustrated at my fear. "We didn't kill them, but the things that did are still here." I looked at him like he was crazy before he said, "If you don't come with us you'll die too."

A movement across the room, behind the other side of the table, caught my eye. The boys noticed my shift in attention and spun around. The tall one- Sammy, I reminded myself- picked a very large ax that had gone unnoticed by me off the floor.

In a blink, we were surrounded by people. But their teeth looked wrong, sharper, as the crowd bared them at us. The boys started swinging their weapons, and I watched horrified as the short one's machete went through one of the _things'_ neck.

"Holy shit," I muttered.

The boys must've killed four of them before Sammy called out to his friend- Dean, apparently. I turned my gaze to him as one of the things knocked the ax across the room, sliding to a stop a yard away from my feet. Looking to Dean, I saw he was struggling with his own opponent. With a deep breath, I picked up the ax and ran towards Sammy.

" _Down_!" I yelled as I swung my weapon back. Sammy quickly followed my instructions, and I struck my target perfectly, the thing's head falling cleanly to the floor. I turned in time to see Dean finish off the last creature. He dropped the machete and bent over, resting his hands on his knees and breathing heavily. When he caught his breath, he stood tall and met my eyes.

We all stood there, the sound of our breathing filling the quiet void. I saw Sammy nod to Dean out of the corner of my eye, Dean returning the gesture, and then they both looked warily back at me.

I let out a shaky breath before I spoke. "What. The. Hell." My vision blurred as the events replayed in my head. My family…

Sammy raised his hands cautiously, slowly, his eyes on the ax I was holding to for dear life. "Hey," his soothing voice brought my attention back to now. "Hey, you're okay. Just- just put down the ax." His eyes pleaded with me to listen.

Suddenly I was laughing. I absently thought I was going into shock, but I ignored it in favor of catching my breath again. I nearly doubled over from the giggles escaping me, and almost missed another one of those looks passing between the two men.

"Like _hell_!" I choked out through the laughter. "You two just slaughtered a ton of people and my _family_! Why would I put it down?" I sobered quickly.

"You killed my family," I whispered, body shaking.

"We didn't-" Dean started, walking towards me like Sammy had. I held my arms steady and brought the ax back, ready to swing. Dean rose his hands higher and took a step back.

"We didn't kill your family," he started again. " _They_ did." He nodded towards one of the decapitated bodies on the floor.

"Their teeth…" I dropped off, remembering.

"They were vampires," Sammy said matter-of-factly. He came closer, stopping when I turned so that I would hit him with the ax.

In a flash, Dean had his gun out and aimed towards me. I raised my eyebrows at him, daring him to shoot.

"Cool it, Dean," Sammy interjected. Then, facing me again, "They killed your family, and they were going to kill you. We saved you."

I snorted at that. "Well then I saved you, so we're even."

"That you did," Sammy nodded, smiling. "Thanks."

Sighing, I pressed my lips together. Weighed my options. Then I slowly held the ax in one hand, gesturing for Dean to do the same. He hesitated, before raising one hand and lowering his gun. We set our weapons on the floor at the same time, then straightened up.

"I'm going to go throw up and grab what I need from the house," I told them decisively. "You're going to clean this up. Then we're going to go somewhere and you're going to tell me what the hell just happened. We clear?" I gave both boys a stern look.

Sammy nodded, and Dean responded gruffly, "Crystal."

Without another glance at the bodies slayed around the dining room, I walked as calmly as I could out. Behind me I heard Dean mutter, "She's badass," and Sammy's grunt of agreement.

Once I was back in the kitchen, I ran to the sink and emptied my stomach. Once I was done, I went upstairs to my brothers' bedroom. Throwing the pillow across the room, I held a pillowcase and began to gently lay the pictures Dylan kept of the three of us into it. I didn't once look at what I was holding. I just filled the pillowcase with anything of theirs I could grab. The stuffed animal on Walker's bed caught my eye, and I rushed to put it in with the pictures. When the pillowcase was full, I let my eyes wander around the room for anything else I might want. Seeing nothing, I ran to Carol and Mark's room. I snagged an emptied duffel bag from their closet and filled it with all of their valuables- jewelry, 24 karat gold trophies they had made, everything. I felt a cold numbness settle in my stomach, the work 'shock' echoing in my head.

With the duffel bag over my shoulder and the pillowcase gripped firmly in my hands, I ran back downstairs to meet the boys. They stopped me in the hall, taking my bags, but I pushed past them, back towards the dining room.

This time it was Dean's hand that grabbed my arm, stopping me. His green eyes looked sad and worried, while he softly said, "We left them there for the police to find. Proper burial and all."

I just tore from his grasp in response. Steeling myself, I once again entered the dining room. I went straight to the head of the table, wincing as I searched the pooling blood for Mark's left hand. I took his wedding ring, and kneeled by Carol to do the same. Putting the matching rings in my back pocket, I stayed by Carol's body for a moment.

"Thank you," I whispered, knowing that that wasn't enough, not near enough, but what would be?

Then I went to Dylan, running my hand through his bloody hair, head bowed. "Sorry, baby." With a deep breath, I went to Walker, our earlier conversation floating through my head.

"I'm so sorry, hun. Goddammit I'm sorry."

Suddenly overtaken with the utter _unfairness_ of it all, I broke down. Gasping out my sobs, I leaned my head on the arm of Walker's chair. I barely registered the hands rubbing my arm and back soothingly.

"I'm so sorry," Dean's voice was quiet under my cries.

"He was _thirteen_! He's never going to grow up, he's never going to drive a car or kiss a girl or go to high school," I whispered. "He's never going to graduate, he's never going to get married."

"It's not your fault."

"If I had been here on time." I stopped and gave a short laugh. "If I hadn't stopped at that damn motel."

"Then you would be dead."

I turned at that, looking him straight in the eye. "Yeah, I would."

Dean blinked, shocked. While he thought about what I said, I stood and left the room, picking up the duffel bag Dean must have discarded on my way out. I walked past Sammy, who still held my pillowcase, to the front door, where I had left my other bags just an hour ago. Heaving them over my shoulder, I opened the door.

"Wait!" Dean called, jogging to a stop behind you. "What's your name?"

I threw a smile back at him.

"Mikayla."


	2. Ramble On

Hitting the bottom step I stopped, jaw gaping. After a breath I ran forward, bags dropping to the hard ground.

My _car_! Those bastards slashed my tires!

"Ooh, tough break," Sammy said through his through his teeth from behind me.

"My car!" I fumed. Opening the passenger door I unlocked the compartment and grabbed my spare cash and favorite sunglasses. With yet another goodbye I got out and saw Sammy and Dean standing with my bags in hand.

"Your car hold one more?" I asked looking between the two.

Dean nodded and silently turned toward the street where the row of cars were parked, Sammy and I trailing behind. The lights from the house were dim but the moon was bright enough to illuminate my blood speckled shoes as I followed in close step behind the two tall men. Dean didn't stop until he got to the furthest one, the one with Kansas plates, opening the trunk and throwing my bags in with his weapons.

" _This_ is your car?" I asked, amazed at the black beauty.

He smiled wide, obviously proud of it. "You like?"

"1967 Chevy impala, four-door," I marveled, looking in the windows. "Two-speed auto transmission, two seventy-five bhp horsepower. You can fit _a body_ in the trunk. Original V8 324 4 barrel?"

Dean nodded, impressed. "You know your cars."

"I'm only fluent in the classics." Talking about cars was calming me, the familiar topic coming easy.

"But you drive an '05 Vette ?" he countered, looking honestly curious.

"I said I'm only _fluent_ in the classics, not that I can't find my way around a newbie muscle," I laughed. "I used to have a '99 Crown Vic," I went on, reminiscing. Then I muttered, " _Stupid_ little wind up toy."

Dean laughed at my disgust. "How'd you get the one back there?"

"Mark and Carol think I won it in a raffle," I shrugged slyly.

Dean grinned with understanding. "How'd you really get it?" I smiled at his intuitiveness.

"Racing for pinks."

Dean eyes widened, while Sammy's were puzzled. "Pinks?" The tall man asked.

Dean scoffed at his brother's question. "Dude, didn't you see The Fast and the Furious? Vin Diesel, Michelle Rodriguez," he chided, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "The pinks, Sam, pink slips, car titles."

"Mmmm, Paul Walker," I interjected.

Sammy nodded, understanding. "You race?"

I shrugged coyly, turning my attention back to the car while the boys gaped at me.

"She is beautiful," I commented. "How does she handle?"

Dean met my gaze with a gleam in his eye. "Wanna drive?"

I snorted my of course, catching the keys he threw at me cleanly, climbing into the driver's seat before he could change his mind. I moaned at the sound of her engine turning over. "Ah, that purr."

Sammy grumbled, "You're letting her drive? You barely know her."

As he walked around to the passenger side I saw Dean thump his partner's shoulder. "Dude," I heard faintly, "she called her she."

Laughing, Sammy pushed him and climbed in behind me. I turned on the headlights and stepped on the gas, the car roaring at Dean to hurry up. He clambered in beside me quickly.

"Seat belts," I ordered, buckling mine.

"You a safety freak?" Sammy leaned over the front seats while Dean followed my command.

I laughed at that. "Oh, _sweetheart_ ," I shook my head, putting in a little of my natural drawl.

Smiling to myself I peeled out, Sammy slammed back into his seat while the speedometer quickly inched towards eighty.

"Jesus!" both men yelled, holding on to whatever they could for dear life.

"Oh, cool your jets," I whined. They shared a look but kept quiet, Sammy finally putting his seat belt on. "Where am I going?"

"We're staying at a motel a few hours away, just take 71," Dean informed me, loosening his grip on the dash.

I looked at Sammy from the rear view mirror, then over at Dean. "So, you two together?" I asked.

"No!" they shouted simultaneously, shaking their heads vigorously.

"Why do people keep thinking that?" Dean returned angrily.

"Well, for two people who aren't together you sure share meaningful looks a lot. And y'all speak at the same time a lot," I pointed out.

"We're _brothers_ ," Sammy insisted.

"Okay," I surrendered.

The empty road whipped by for a few minutes before I couldn't take the silence anymore. I needed something to focus on before my mind started drifting into dark places. Taking my hands off the wheel and steering with my left knee I searched through the cassette decks.

"Woah!" Dean shrieked. "Keep both hands on the wheel!" At his worried exclamation I looked at the speedometer.

"I'm fine, I'm barely over a hundred," I assured him, with an exasperated huff.

"Eyes on the road! You're gonna kill us!" Sammy yelled, still holding on to the front seat.

"Christ, stop your yelling. I'll go deaf," I retorted, finding a title I liked. Popping it in, I turned the volume up and smiled as the intro to Ramble On came on.

The boys looked at me, and Sammy said, "We can listen to the radio if you want, Mikayla. I'd prefer it."

"Mikki," I shot back annoyed. "And driver picks the music, backseat shuts his piehole."

Dean shot a pointed look at his brother.

"Anyway, what do you have against Zeppelin?" I scoffed, turning the volume up.

"Oh, sometimes I grow so tired," I sang. "But I know one thing I've got to do."

"Ramble on!" Dean chimed in and I smiled over at him. "And now's the time, the time is now."

"To sing my song! I'm going round the world, I got to find my girl," we cried together, turning to Sammy who rolled his eyes and smiled, joining us. "On my way!"

Facing the road again I fell silent, listening to these brothers sing. I felt the smile slowly slip from my face, my thoughts drifting despite the music screaming in my ears. Shifting so they couldn't see, I let a tear slip down my cheek, keeping my eyes on the stretch of road in front of us and leaving my family in the rear view.

* * *

After an hour on the road, I finally slowed, following Dean's directions to the motel parking lot. It was midnight and we were tired from the day's events, leaving my things in the car while we went into the room. I immediately went to the fridge, finding it loaded with beer. Perfect. I pulled one out and clipped the cap against the counter next to me, taking a sip. I turned, examining the room. It was simple; a kitchen area with a sink and fridge, a plastic table with four wooden chairs around it, two unmade beds, a blue couch, a nightstand, a dresser and tv, and an open door that led to the bathroom. The walls were a dull yellow, matching the faded bedspreads where bags sat on both beds.

"Help yourself." Dean joked, looking at my drink.

I rolled my eyes at him. "I'll pay you back. Want one?" I asked, looking between the boys. When both nodded I tossed them each one.

Sammy sat on a bed while Dean sat at the small kitchen table. I joined him, turning my chair around and sitting in it backwards. Leaning my arms on the back of the chair I took a deep swig of my drink before setting it down on the table.

"So-" Sammy started, but I cut him off.

"What the hell just happened? And who are you?"

"Maybe you should sleep a little," Sammy continued warily. "Stay the night, we'll talk in the morning and take you wherever you want to go."

"Like hell, Sammy," I said, turning to his brother to ask more firmly. "Dean. What the hell just happened?"

"Sam," he said automatically. "Wait. You know our names?" Sammy- just Sam, now- said, eyebrows shooting up.

"Well, that's what you called each other while you were fighting those-" I stopped, remembering what they had told me. "Vampires?"

The brothers shared another look. Goddamn that was getting annoying.

Dean nodded absently and spoke. "Yeah. They were vampires."

I nodded at that then stood and walked to the door. "Okay, well, nice to meet you, thanks for the beer and the ride but you're crazy."

Dean scrambled up to grab my arm and for the third time that night I pulled away from the men who'd saved my life. "You saw it. You saw their strength, their speed," Sam cut in.

"You saw their teeth." Dean lifted his chin knowingly.

"That's not possible," I whispered, meeting his gaze. I saw the reflection of my eyes in his green ones, my horror looking back at me.

"You know it is," he retorted softly.

I slumped, going back to my chair, sitting properly now. "Shit." I covered my face with my hands, elbows on the table. "Shit, shit, shit, _shit_!" I moved my hands to run my fingers through my hair. " _I'm going insane._ "

Sam and Dean moved to sit in their chairs on either side of me. Sam put a gentle hand on my shoulder and I looked at him.

"You lost your family and you chopped the head off a vampire that you didn't know existed as of a few hours ago. You should rest," he told me gently.

"Yeah, I'm not going to sleep for a while," I said truthfully, tears clouding my eyes. I quickly looked away, swallowing thickly. I closed my eyes for a moment, waiting until they dried before I opened them again. Against my eyelids I saw it again- my family, my brothers…

When I looked up again both brothers were looking guiltily at the table. "So..." I asked, annoyed now.

"What?" Dean replied, confused.

"Are you going to tell me what the hell happened or do I have to ask a third time?"

Sam looked to Dean who cleared his throat and started his explanation. "Monsters are real. They killed your family. We hunt them."

" _Dean_ ," Sam said sharply.

"What?"

"Don't sugarcoat it for her," Sam scolded.

"No, it's fine," I assured him, patting his arm that sat holding his beer on the table before looking to Dean to continue.

"Tonight a nest of vamps decided to kill your family," he explained.

"Why?" I asked.

He snorted at me and I glared in return. "Why not? They're monsters, Mikayla."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Sam repeated.

I shrugged. "Okay."

"Okay?" That was Dean now.

"God, is there an echo in here? Okay! Vampires killed my family, monsters exist. Y'all can go to sleep now- you look tired," I nodded towards the beds.

Sam looked to his brother, alarmed. Dean just got up and grabbed his bag from his bed before shutting himself in the bathroom. I got up too and moved to the couch in the corner next to the bathroom, pulling one leg to my chest and letting the other stretch out. Through the wall I heard the water start in the shower.

"I'm so sorry about your family," Sam murmured, sitting on the bed closest to me. "Losing someone like that… everyone. I can't imagine." When I stayed silent he continued. "Your parents must've loved you and your brothers very much."

At that I smiled sadly. "Carol did, of course. And I am very fond of her."

"Your dad did too, I'm sure," he told me sternly. I looked at him finally and shook my head. "He did." Sam reiterated.

"No, I mean he's not my father. Well, he doesn't love me, but whatever." I shrugged.

"Not your father?" Sam looked confused.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the wedding rings. Raising Mark's, I said, "Mark was my adoptive father and a bastard." Somewhere, my mind told me not to speak ill of the dead but I shook my head at the thought. Bringing my hand down, I scraped at the gold band with my nail, picking at the dried blood.

"He and his wife adopted you and your brothers?" Sam asked. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry."

"Eh, I don't mind," I promised. "No, Walker and Dylan aren't my brothers. Carol and Mark adopted the boys a year after me. _I_ didn't live up to Mark's expectations."

"Expectations?"

"They chose the perfect student to go into the family business. I became a doctor instead of a lawyer." I grinned. "Much to Mark's chagrin."

"I was going to be a lawyer, you know," Sam said thoughtfully. "But I got sucked into the family business."

"Why?" I asked curious. Putting the rings back in my pocket, I added, "Not to pry."

Sam grinned back at me, then looked down. "My girlfriend died a year ago… just after I left with Dean to look for our dad. Now we're still looking… for him and her killer. Turns out it's the same thing that killed my mom," it came out in a rush.

I looked at him in surprise. "I'm sorry," I muttered. He simply shrugged. After a moment of uncomfortable silence I continued. "I was actually asking why _the hell_ you would want to be a _lawyer_." I made a disgusted look and Sam laughed.

"Oh, well, um…" he stuttered. "That's awkward." I shook my head at him with an amused smile.

Just then Dean came out of the bathroom and walked to his bed, dressed in nothing but his shorts.

"Woah, Dean," Sam reprimanded. "We have company!"

"I know." Dean looked at me suggestively.

"Ugh. Dude, no," Sam muttered quickly. "I'm going to go get a soda from the vending machine. Don't- just don't _do_ anything while I'm gone." He rushed out and slammed the door behind him.

"Where were we?" Dean asked deeply.

"Oh, come now, hun, don't tease," I replied in a sultry tone.

"Who says I'm teasing?" Dean flirted back.

At the hungry look in his eyes I got up and stood in front of him, just an inch away from pressing against his chest.

Lifting on my toes I put my lips next to his ear and whispered. "Baby, you wouldn't last long enough to make it worth my time." I bit his earlobe carefully before pulling back and moving to pick my beer off the table.

Before I could turn around I felt hands on my hips and warm breath fanning over my neck. I hesitantly put my drink back down. "Now who's teasing?" his voice was in my ear.

In a flash I took one of his arms and spun, twisting until Dean lay face down on the table, head next to my beer, arm pulled tight behind his back. "Ouch." Dean complained.

"Wrong move, sweetheart," I told him sweetly.

Sam came busting through the door right then, soda in hand, and bust out laughing when he saw us. These boys really had weird timing.

I released Dean's arm when he struggled but stayed close so that he pressed against me when he turned around. Raising my eyebrows at him he grunted angrily and shoved past me.

Turning to sit back on the table I picked my beer back up to take a sip. Before the tip hit my lips I whined. "So you're gonna get me all hot and bothered then leave me?" Sam was struggling for breath, doubling over in silent laughter at the death glare his brother was giving me.

"Bite me." Dean retorted.

"You wish, sweetheart." I winked before finishing my bottle and throwing it into the trash.

Dean was still grumbling nasty things at me while he climbed into bed. Things I happily ignored. Sam went to the bathroom to change, coming out a minute later and starting to slide into his bed. He stopped as he was pulling the covers back and picked up a pillow.

"You take the bed tonight," he said quietly, trying not to disturb his brother. "I can sleep on the couch."

I smiled at his kindness but shook my head. "That couch isn't long enough, you'll be uncomfort-"

"I'll be fine."

"And I'm not going to be able to sleep anyways," I spoke over him. "I was serious about that."

Sam sighed and came forward, gently placing his hand on my arm as he continued. "Well, you should at least try, Mikayla. You need to sleep."

"No, really. I'm good."

"Mikayla…"

"Sam," I said sharply. He looked at me, startled. "I can't."

He searched my eyes a moment before finding what he was looking for and nodded.

"You'll still be here in the morning?" he asked softly.

"I don't have anywhere else to go."


End file.
